Hide and Seek
by Nueva Yui Maxwell
Summary: A small drabble, Doumekicentric. The world he knew would never be the same now Warning: hints of DouWata, character death


**Title**: Hide and Seek  
**Pairing**: Hints of Doumeki/Watanuki  
**Warnings**: PG, character death  
**AN**: A big thanks to Mel for being the best beta-reader ever.  
**Disclaimer**: Not mine, never was, never will. Not making any money out of this. Lyrics are from the song "Hide and Seek", property of Imogen Heap.

Hide and Seek

_Where are we? What the hell is going on?  
The dust has only just begun to form,  
Crop circles in the carpet, sinking, feeling._

It took Doumeki quite a few moments to let the situation sink in. Ever since he can remember, he's known things that most people would look upon as insanity, as rubbish. But when magic users, vampires and ninjas alike flooded in their world, bringing hell with them, he had not hesitated a second and had simply fought back, siding with those he had protected for the past months, not questioning the sanity of the situation

But now the fight is over, the dust settling over his kneeling form, his long bow dropped at his side; the string snapped, simple symbol of their costly victory. The world he knew would never be the same now.

_Spin me round again and rub my eyes.  
This can't be happening.  
When busy streets a mess with people  
would stop to hold their heads heavy._

He hears talks about fate, about memories, about ruins that hold something precious, but he doesn't listen. His golden eyes are set upon one thing, his heart constricting at the thought of one choice that made friends betray each other. A hand rests upon his shoulder, its warmth reminding him of the painful reality before him. It seems that the air slowly fills up with something heavy, something that makes his shoulders slouch forward with defeat. Without having to look, he knows he's not alone to feel that way.

_Oily marks appear on walls  
Where pleasure moments hung before.  
The takeover, the sweeping insensitivity of this  
still life._

He thinks of past memories, of laughter that sounds like chiming bells, of food shared, of an offered helping hand. He swallows with difficulty at the thoughts of softly whispered gratefulness, of verbal sparring matches that should have brought down the roof of a now nearly destroyed shop. He grits his teeth, wishing that silent feelings had been voiced out sooner, that words pushed down in favour of grunts had bubbled up before that day.

_Hide and seek.  
Blood and tears,  
They were here first._

Breathing seems to be hard for the archer, the sore muscles fighting against any movement, the feeling of loss bringing the acrid taste of bile in his mouth. There's something moist rolling on his cheeks while his hands are covered with some thick, warm liquid. The figure in front of him smiles softly, and Doumeki knows there's no time left now. Already, the feathers seem to disperse with the wind.

_Mmm, what you say?  
Mm, that you only meant well? Well, of course you did.  
Mmm, what you say?  
Mm, that it's all for the best? Ah of course it is.  
Mmm, what you say?  
Mm, that it's just what we need? And you decided this._

The figure extends an hand to touch his cheek, and although the archer can see through it, he leans against its touch. He listens to the explanation of a decision, his reason understanding the truth behind it, his heart breaking with the immense sacrifice it demanded. Any other decision would have been a selfish one, but Doumeki is a selfless person and he knows when it is time to let go. A choked sound escapes his lips as the wind picks up, scattering the last feathers, breaking the soft contact on his cheek

_Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.  
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.  
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.  
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit._

Anger boils up as a voice that seems as old as Time itself explains what is left to know. He hears about the future having been changed for the best, but he only focuses on the part where roles are being assigned centuries ago. He lashes out, not wanting to know that their meeting was arranged, that they were only pawns on a chessboard. He wants to believe in Hitsuzen, at least one last time. He accuses the voice of causing the mess in front of him, the pain in his heart, but he knows he himself is just as guilty.

After a moment that felt like eternity, he is forced to look into garnet eyes. He does not want to see the sadness they hold; acknowledging it is acknowledging his loss. As he is engulfed in the closeness of a hug, he breaks down. The world is safe now, but it seems to the young exorcist that it has lost all its warmth.

* * *

Comments and cosntructive critics are always welcome. 


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